


Competitive Advantage

by lucymonster



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Banter, Butt Plugs, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gangbang, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-28 20:16:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16730034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: In the crowded lower ranks of the Order hierarchy, even a perfect test score isn't enough to earn a promotion. Dopheld needs a sponsor. A mentor. No one ever has to know what he did to get his shiny new rank cylinder.Or: Pounded in the Butt by the First Order's Dubious HR Practices.





	Competitive Advantage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [do_it_to_julia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/do_it_to_julia/gifts).



‘He’s an exceptional specimen,’ says General Hux. ‘Quick-thinking, well-trained, beautifully compliant. Top physical and mental condition. Scored a perfect hundred on his aptitude test.’

Kylo Ren doesn’t look impressed. Admittedly, the helmet doesn’t give much away. ‘You talk like a used cloud car salesman,’ he tells Hux, and reaches out a gloved hand to tilt Dopheld’s chin up. Dopheld can feel hidden eyes boring into his, scanning for defects. ‘Look – he’s shaking all over.’

‘My men don’t shake,’ Hux snaps. ‘Not even on exposure to you, which I’m sure no reasonable person could hold against them. Those are vibrations from the plug I had him insert before the ceremony.’

Dopheld swallows nervously as Ren’s gaze sharpens. He’s not sure how he can tell it’s changed, but he can feel it like a mind probe jabbing into his nervous system. All Academy graduates are trained to withstand interrogation. The sensation is familiar, though no less uncomfortable for it – especially when he’s already this close to the point of stimulation overload. ‘You just stood at attention through a two-hour intake ceremony with a vibrator up your ass?’ Ren demands, and somehow, the vocoder makes the words sound even cruder than they are. Like a droid just started talking dirty.

Droid Kylo Ren was always one of the more popular theories among Dopheld’s year group. Personally, he’s never subscribed. Even the First Order’s most advanced neural networks don’t have the sophisticated processing power to lead an army in battle, and Kylo Ren, whatever else he may be and whatever other rumours he might inspire, is well known for his efficacy in that field. Dopheld has always favoured the telekinetic alien theory, but honestly right now he favours whatever will bring him the quickest relief from the hard length of silicone tormenting his prostate. ‘I did, sir,’ he says, trying his hardest to sound stoic and dutiful.

Ren turns to look at Hux. The pressure on Dopheld’s mind lets up, but not the pressure in his ass.

‘As I’ve told you before,’ says Hux, ‘my training program is very thorough.’

‘We’ll see,’ says Ren. Then he turns back to Dopheld and says, ‘Take off your uniform.’

As he strips, never mind all Hux’s stern denials, Dopheld can feel his fingers starting to tremble. He’s had so much time to work himself up for this, and now that he’s here, the heady mix of anticipation and dread is threatening to bring him unstuck. General Hux has been clear since day one: in the crowded lower ranks of the First Order hierarchy, even a perfect aptitude test score isn’t necessarily good enough to earn a promotion. You need a sponsor. A mentor. There’s not a soul on board the _Finalizer_ who’s better placed than Hux to help fast-track Dopheld’s career. No one else ever needs to know what he’s doing to get that help.

No one except Hux, obviously. And Ren. And the group of senior staff waiting out in the lounge, who Hux hand selected from the post-ceremony officer’s drinks. Dopheld doesn’t know exactly how many there are, but he can hear their raucous voices through the thin wall of Hux’s private meeting chamber. Once his new rank cylinder is safely clipped to his blazer, Dopheld is going to submit a formal recommendation that they review the command centre’s soundproofing.

He steps out of his boots and drops his trousers, keenly aware of Ren’s gaze on his body. His cock, which was painfully hard through most of the ceremony, has flagged a little due to nerves. His balls feel swollen between his legs. And his ass … he doesn’t want to think about how it’s going to feel when they take out the plug and fuck him. Two hours is a long time to spend stretched open and vibrating.

There’s a sharp stab of apprehension when Ren pushes him to his knees and undoes his own fly, followed by mingled relief and letdown when it’s just a normal cock that emerges, no barbs or tentacles or other signs of alien biology that Dopheld half-expected. He knows what to do with this. Knows what’s required. He folds his arms behind his back and opens his mouth, and Ren’s only half hard when he settles on Dopheld’s tongue. Still deciding if he passes muster.

Dopheld _always_ passes muster. He sucks his lips over his teeth to cushion them and takes Ren’s cock as deep as he can. It fills his mouth as it swells but he keeps on swallowing, relaxing his throat, breathing through his nose until he’s flush to Ren’s skin and fighting not to gag.

‘Who else did you bring?’ Ren asks, and for a mortifying moment Dopheld thinks he’s asking if he can fuck someone else instead, but then he remembers the other officers outside. His competence stands unquestioned, for now.

‘Opan,’ says Hux. ‘Datoo. Bascus. I think Canady might have overheard the invitation, but I didn’t like to risk giving the old fool a heart attack.’

‘How considerate,’ says Ren.

‘And I told Thanisson not to bother coming. His face puts me right off.’

‘Did you ask–’ There’s an awkward pause.

‘His name’s Mitaka,’ says Hux, and Dopheld doesn’t need to see his expression to hear the impatience in his voice.

‘Sure. Did you ask Mitaka who he’d prefer to spend the night with?’

Hux exhales audibly through his nose. ‘That would rather defeat the purpose, would it not?’

‘Depends on your purpose,’ says Ren. He grabs a handful of Dopheld’s hair, and Dopheld forces himself to go limp in the grip, expecting a punishing onslaught of thrusts. It doesn’t happen. Ren pulls him off his cock and drops down on one knee so they’re face to face. ‘Mitaka. Are you enjoying this little after-party? Are you happy for all those men to come in and fuck you?’

Gazing into that opaque black visor, Dopheld feels a strange shiver run down his spine to join the vibrator's steady thrum. Ren’s modulated voice gives nothing away, but he knows better than to think the question is sincere – he wasn’t brought here to enjoy himself. This is some kind of test, some new and convoluted mental game that the more practical-minded Hux has never bothered to play with him.

‘Ren–’ Hux starts.

‘Very happy, sir,’ says Dopheld. He doesn’t know where the words come from, and he certainly doesn’t mean to interrupt General Hux. But his vocal chords seem to have taken on a life of their own. It could be the nerves. Or the vibrator still revving away and shaking his insides tender-numb. Or maybe it’s Ren’s piercing tone that somehow demands complete and total honesty. ‘But it’s nice to know the names of everyone involved. And I’d love to be able to see their faces – everyone’s faces.’

It takes him a moment to decode Ren’s strange huffing sound as a laugh. ‘You’ve got some nerve, Mitaka. I like that. There aren’t many officers on this ship who Hux hasn’t managed to completely ruin.’ He grabs his helmet with both hands, and the thing comes off with a muted hiss from the internal servomotors.

Kylo Ren’s face, it turns out, is as blandly human as his cock. Dopheld feels like he’s just stumbled across a forbidden secret. He can’t believe that after all these years of fevered speculation, the answer was as simple as asking.

‘I don’t know why you always do this,’ says Hux, sounding more deeply annoyed than Dopheld has ever heard him before. If Hux turned that voice on _him_ , there’s a chance he’d drop dead of a heart attack. Ren doesn’t even flinch. ‘It’s a waste of time, it confuses the men, and it completely undermines my teaching program.’

‘It's called having manners, Hux,’ says Ren. ‘It’s a shame your mother never taught you any.’ He steps around out of Dopheld’s view, and Dopheld keeps his head snapped to the front and holds carefully still as a pair of gloved hands spread his ass cheeks apart. ‘I don’t like it when they’re too miserable. You’re not the one who has to get inside their minds and feel all the pain and fear you’re inflicting.’

‘You don’t seem to mind inflicting pain and fear any other time,’ says Hux. But Dopheld is completely distracted by two things: one, he's not imagining it, Ren really is  _inside his mind_. He’s known all along that tonight would be a test, a final show of his unshakeable obedience before Hux hands over his new rank cylinder. He suspected there would be monitoring, maybe even at the neural level, but deep down he also thought Ren’s telepathic powers were just another rumour. Like the tentacle dick that never eventuated. Somehow, the thought of having his brain invaded by a sentient person feels so much more frightening than the indifferent probings of an interrogation droid.

Two, Ren pulls the plug out of his ass, and the sudden shock of emptiness leaves him clenching and fluttering around thin air. He’s well trained for what comes next, and his body craves it even as his mental discipline threatens to crumble.

‘Say it again,’ says Ren. ‘Do you want this?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Dopheld only half-lies. He wants his promotion. He wants to walk into the officers’ mess with his new rank cylinder gleaming on his well-pressed blazer. He wants the aching intensity of a cock thrusting into his overstimulated body to drown out his wailing chorus in _What if he can hear every word I’m thinking right now?_

Ren strokes his neck. Smooth leather on goosebumped skin. ‘Relax,’ he says, and the word has a ring of authority that Dopheld doesn’t think he could deny even if Hux gave him a direct order to the contrary. ‘You were doing so well a minute ago.’

Then he lines up his cock and pushes inside.

Dopheld cracks. He can’t help it. No one has asked him a question or given him permission to speak, but he’s raw from those excruciating hours stretched open around the vibrator, and when Ren starts to move – slow but deep, slapping flush against his ass with every thrust – he lets out a moan that’s pleasure and pain and defeat all at once.

‘Listen to that,’ says Ren. He sounds satisfied, and the small part of Dopheld that isn’t lost in sensation ruffles its feathers: he always passes muster. Always. ‘Tell me my way isn’t more fun.’

‘He’s going to disturb the other officers,’ snaps Hux. ‘We’re not ready for them yet.’

‘So shut him up.’

Hux looms in front of Dopheld, extracting his cock from his regulation flared-hip breeches with military precision. He generally likes to start from the beginning – Dopheld is well used to taking Hux’s soft, bored cock between his lips and sucking it to hardness. But there’s no sign of boredom now. Hux’s erection is purple-red with a bead of precome at the tip, and when he swallows it down he can feel a thick vein on the underside throbbing on his tongue.

He’s nearing the point where he doesn’t need to think much. It’s a relief. Kneeling on the hard floor with Ren thrusting in his ass and Hux thrusting in his mouth, his job becomes simple: relax. Endure. His cock is hard again, bobbing uselessly in time with Ren’s rhythm, but that doesn’t matter – when all this is over, he’ll have a brand new pipe to embroider on his sleeve and a new set of clearance codes for the command bridge. Maybe one day, once he’s proven his worth beyond all shadow of a doubt, he’ll be in a position to sponsor a junior officer of his very own.

When Ren adjusts the angle a little, Dopheld is deeply glad for Hux’s cock muffling the sound he makes. It’s unprofessional. Undisciplined. Ren’s rubbing his overworked prostate, and caught as he is in his promotion fantasy, Dopheld doesn’t have the control to pull it back. No one’s given him permission. No one’s even touched his cock yet, but he can feel the pleasure twisting tight and hard inside him as he clenches around Ren’s girth. He’s going to come. Soon, dangerously soon. He can’t help it. Ren knows and he isn’t stopping, he’s picking up speed, hitting that place with every thrust, urging him on towards –

The cold sole of Hux’s boot presses against his groin. It’s not hard enough to really hurt, but the warning is crystal clear and the shock of fear is more than enough to snap Dopheld out of his momentary madness.

‘Fucking hell, Hux, I was enjoying that,’ says Ren.

‘If he comes now, he’ll be completely wrecked by the time we invite the other officers in. I don’t want him blubbering in front of my men. Can’t you try to make it a bit less easy for him?’

‘ _Fine_ ,’ says Ren with a huff.

And then Dopheld is lost completely in a wave of such intensity that he can’t even make a sound. Ren starts fucking him for real, hard, deep, jolting him into the painful sole of Hux’s boot with every thrust. Hux pushes all the way into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat, and it’s all he has in him not to bite or gag or try to pull his head away. His ass is on fire. His throat is seizing up. It keeps going and going and _going_ , it’s too much, he can’t take it, he’s going to cry he’s going to scream he’s going to –

Hux spills first, so deep in his throat that he can’t even taste it. Hot seed splashes the back of his palate and he swallows desperately, tears welling in his eyes. Ren follows moments later, and Dopheld feels it in the sudden break of rhythm and the sticky wetness when Ren finally pulls out and leaves him spasming empty.

He’s shaking. He’s not supposed to shake. Hux has strong feelings about his men showing signs of weakness.

‘How’s he doing?’ he hears Hux ask through the ringing in his ears. He sounds slightly breathless, which would be deeply gratifying if Dopheld had the mental wherewithal left to feel gratified.

‘He’s doing well,’ says Ren. ‘Thinking about you. Good job with this one, Hux - he really cares about meeting your standards.’

‘As well he should,’ says Hux.

‘Do you think we should invite the others in now?’

The others. Oh, no, the others. Dopheld’s ordeal is only just starting, and he’s sore and sticky and trembling all over with his cock still impossibly hard between his legs. He could beg for more. He could beg them to stop. He could close his eyes and pray for strength and draw on the thought of his beautiful new rank cylinder, so close within his reach now and yet so far away.

‘Yeah, that’s right.’ Kylo Ren crouches down in front of him, looking deep into his watery eyes again. ‘You want that promotion, don’t you? You want it more than anything.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ren,’ says Hux. ‘Will you please stop trying to sweet talk my protege? I brought you here to test him, not to bond with him.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Dopheld gulps. ‘I want it more than anything.’

‘There’s a reward waiting for you at the end of this,’ says Ren. ‘It has to be done – you know that. We need to see how you hold up under pressure, and we need to make sure all your new rank-mates get their turn with you. So tell me what else you want.’

Hux tucks his cock away into his breeches. ‘I’m going to get a drink,’ he says. ‘Call me back in when you’re done with the heart-to-heart. And Mitaka–’ He meets Dopheld’s eyes, cold and commanding. ‘Do try not disgrace yourself. If you can’t last the distance without me here to step on your balls, we’ll need to look into some more permanent pleasure-damping measures.’

‘Yes, sir. Of course, sir.’

‘Tell me what you want,’ Ren says again.

Dopheld breathes deep. Scrunches his eyes closed. He can feel his ass gaping and Ren’s come dripping down his thighs. He can feel his neglected cock aching and his battered insides pleading for a break. ‘I want all the others to come in and fuck me,’ he says. Means it. Doesn’t mean it. Doesn’t know what he means anymore.

‘Good answer,’ says Ren. ‘You’re going to make a great officer, Mitaka.’

He can do this. He’s spent so many years in training for this moment. He’s deaf to the excitable chatter as Ren lets the others in to have their turn with him. He’s numb to the throbbing stretch as a brand new cock shoves inside him without warning or ceremony. He’s indifferent to the lancing pressure in his brain that says Ren is still watching keenly, surveying his mind for whatever signs of an officer’s potential this whole ordeal is supposed to bring out. Or maybe it’s simpler than that. Maybe he’s just enjoying the show.

Soon, it won’t matter. Soon, come hell or high water, Dopheld will have what he came for.


End file.
